


The Lonely Heart's Remix

by qunimees (rqyh)



Series: Broken Record [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Break Up, Cheating, I APOLOGIZE, M/M, Pure and utter angst, Sadness, The amount of relationships in the relationships tag is overwhelming, The first chapter's just a table of contents, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Will update the tags as we go on, poor kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-17 15:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqyh/pseuds/qunimees
Summary: The four relationships Kuroo ended, and the one relationship he doesn't want to start.





	1. Tracklist

**i. Heads Up**  | Sams Tsui

 

 **ii. I Hate U, I Love U**  | Gnash feat. Olivia O'brien

 

 **iii. Paper Hearts**  | Tori Kelly

 

 **iv. Big Girls Cry**  | Sia

 

 **v. D (Half Moon)**  | DΞΔN feat. Gaeko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme for this playlist is "songs that make you cry even if you don't want to."


	2. Track One - Off Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“Snap me awake while I’m still dreaming my dream.” _Sam Tsui, Heads Up_**

Sawamura Daichi was a man of dignity, of honesty, and of a kindness that people rarely see anymore. And Tetsurou was a man who fell for him, hard.

            He fell for his laughter, the hand on his shoulder, the voice asking him if he was all right, the hands that picked up his things and pulled him up from the floor, the smile that stole his heart before Tetsurou could tell him, “Wait.”

            Sawamura never stopped letting Tetsurou feel as if he was special, as if he was important, smiling that wonderful smile that had Tetsurou falling to his knees in a moment. And he was so beautiful, and so reliable, and so responsible, and Tetsurou would give anything.

            There wasn’t a day in which Sawamura’s name wasn’t in Tetsurou’s mind. Not a day when his thoughts weren’t filled with his smile, his face, and him. Not a day when he didn’t catch himself smiling like an idiot at the mere thought of meeting him at the campus café, talking about whatever, whenever they could. There wasn’t a day when he didn’t think about holding his hand, about eating popcorn with him at the movies, about laughing with him until tears formed at the corners of his eyes, both of them trying hard to catch their breath. About loving him the same way he loved him.

            Because Sawamura was a man of kindness, and Sawamura was a man who was kind to Tetsurou, and Tetsurou was a man who loved him for that, loved him for him.

            And loving Sawamura was spinning in circles in his dorm room with old school ballads blasting in the speakers until someone banged on his door to tell him to stop. Loving Sawamura was skipping across the campus grounds in a complex pattern while humming the same old school ballads and not caring if anyone saw. Loving Sawamura was asking him to tutor him for a class he didn’t even take just to a have an excuse to see him every day.

            Tetsurou was smitten, _absolutely_ smitten, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, couldn’t have it any other way, couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help thinking that Sawamura felt the same.

            Because Sawamura laughed at every joke Tetsurou made. Because Sawamura said yes to every invitation Tetsurou sent his way. Because Sawamura smiled at Tetsurou just like Tetsurou smiled at Sawamura. And Tetsurou wanted to believe, _needed_ to believe, and so he believed with his whole heart.

            That Sawamura liked him back, had to like him back, had to have liked him back because Tetsurou was sure, one hundred percent sure, that he did.

            But Sawamura was also a man of honesty, the kind of honesty so honest it could have been counted as cruel and mean, the kind of honesty Tetsurou was fine with, until that kind of honesty was being directed at him.

            Tetsurou had yelled too much for his own good, Sawamura didn’t yell at all also for his own good, and Tetsurou wished he did but he didn’t, and Tetsurou was stupid, stupid, stupid.

            Because Sawamura liked him back, had to like him back, had to have liked him back, but Sawamura was saying that he didn’t like him back, didn’t have to like him back, didn’t have to have liked him back, didn’t want to kiss him back, and Tetsurou was crying, crying, crying.

            Because Sawamura laughed at his every joke, said yes to his every invitation, smiled at him, only him, just him, only him, but the only thing Sawamura was saying was:

            “You’ve never looked at me before, have you, Kuroo.”

            Because Sawamura was a man of dignity and honesty and kindness, and Tetsurou was a man who thought Sawamura was a man who was kind and honest only to him, just him, only him.

            And Tetsurou loved him too much, but Sawamura Daichi didn’t, and Tetsurou thought that smile was for him, but it wasn’t, and it was only now that he realized that Sawamura Daichi gave that smile to everyone, to anyone, to everyone except whoever that gray-haired man was. And the smile he gave that man was more than what Tetsurou had gotten, more than what he had thought and more than the smile that made Tetsurou fall.

            Because Sawamura didn’t have to laugh at his every joke, didn’t have to say yes to his every invitation, didn’t have to smile at him but he did, he did, and Tetsurou couldn’t help, couldn’t blame him, because all he had were lies he thought were truths, and all he was was a man who couldn’t accept the truth. Because Tetsurou had no one else to blame but himself for hoping, for loving, for falling.

            Tetsurou had fallen for him, hard. Had fallen for his smile, and his laugh, and the love he thought was real, the love he thought was his, and, unfortunately, the love he never got.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am back again with pt. 2 of broken record, and let me just tell you: This was such a pain in the butt to write jfcccc  
> But now i can sleep again so whatever :')
> 
> Also pls comment I need love *lies on the floor*


	3. Track Two - Above You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“You ever wonder what we could have been?” _Gnash, I Hate U I Love U feat. Olivia O'brien_**

Tsukishima Kei made Tetsurou more curious than he would like to be. He was always cold stares and cold shoulders, and his tongue was sharper than a knife.

            But his eyes were a shade of gold Tetsurou didn’t think existed, and he was pretty for a boy who never smiled that easy, and his face had that prettiness that was meant for a photo, that was meant to be looked at but never touched, and his hands were cold, cold, cold.

            (His words were colder, but Tetsurou was curious, anyway.)

            He’d always caught himself staring at him, staring at that slender figure too thin, too lanky, too tall, his skin a bit too pale to be for a human, his gaze a bit too mean. He always stared, always looked, but never went, never touched. Because as soon as he would, Tsukishima Kei’s ice cold heart would burn him like fire.

            But his own wasn’t dead yet. There was still a little fire left, a little spark, a little singe, even if it still hurt. Even if it burned him a bit.

            And it was when Tsukishima Kei’s eyes started to lock with his that Tetsurou’s curiosity sparked, once again. Again, and again, Tsukishima Kei’s eyes locked on his whenever they were in the same room. Again, and again, Tetsurou started to be more and more curious.

            Because Tsukishima Kei’s eyes were the brightest gold he’d ever seen, and his skin was so pale it looked like it would melt if he touched it, and Tetsurou wanted to know if it did, so Tetsurou didn’t stop himself from walking over, leaving his drink and pretending that he didn’t know whatever it was that killed the cat.

            It wasn’t hesitance that came over Tsukishima Kei’s eyes when Tetsurou came over; it was something much more, something that should’ve made Tetsurou leave the moment he realized what it was. But he was blinded by the gold in Tsukishima Kei’s eyes, and leaned in, forgetting everything, forgetting for a moment, like there was a veil covering the both of them.

            Tsukishima’s eyes didn’t close, but that was fine. Tetsurou didn’t expect them to.

            Tsukishima was always so careful in his movements, like he was weighing his every action, checking to see which side tilted down more. His every touch was like the wind kissing Tetsurou’s neck, every whisper barely a whisper, and his eyes locked onto Tetsurou’s more than he expected them to, more than the number of nights they had spent.

            Tsukishima’s mind was far away, so far, far away but his body was here, his body was Tetsurou’s, and Tetsurou never failed to let him know it was. But Tsukishima’s heart was far, _far_ away whenever Tetsurou planted a kiss, whenever Tetsurou called his name, whenever Tsukishima asked him to call him by his nickname instead.

            Tsukki didn’t stop Tetsurou from moving him, from doing whatever he wanted to him, like he needed it as much as Tetsurou did. Every night they see each other, they see each other, but Tsukki never seemed to let Tetsurou see all of him, even if Tetsurou had already seen all of him.

            Tsukki’s eyes were always on him, like he couldn’t bear to close them, couldn’t bear to not see what was in front of him, couldn’t be bothered, couldn’t. Like he was afraid, like he was scared. But his hands were cold, and his words were ice, and his voice was low, and Tetsurou couldn’t tell if he knew that he knew that he knew it.

            Tetsurou was being used, that he knew, but he loved him anyway. Loved him as if he needed it, and loved him as if his world depended on it. Because whenever Tsukki called his name instead of staying silent, when Tsukki closed his eyes for the first time, he wanted to think there was a grain of whatever Tetsurou felt in that pale, slender, fragile body of his.

            But he didn’t let himself believe in it. Not now. Not yet. Not until.

            Until.

            He ended up wanting more. Ended up wanting more than what he had, than what Tsukki had given to him. Ended up wanting to wake up next to him instead of waking up next to an empty bed. Ended up wanting to see how those lips looked like if he ever made him smile. Ended up wanting to see those stars look at him like he was the universe and with the universe in them. Ended up wanting to love him instead of making love to him.

            Until.

            It ended up ending it.

            Ended up that Tsukki got up and got his phone faster than Tetsurou liked, and ended up that Tetsurou grabbed him, asking why, asking why they couldn’t try it, why he was so scared of trying.

            And Tsukki pushed him away, telling him why, telling him why he didn’t want it, why he was so scared of loving anyone else but _him_ , just _him_ , only _him_.

            Because Tetsurou wasn’t _him_ , and Tetsurou would never be _him_ , and Tsukki—

            “Don’t call me that.”

            —left faster than Tetsurou wanted him to.

            Tsukishima’s eyes were beautiful and golden even when they were blurred, and he was still beautiful red and wet and scrunched up, and his hands were still cold, still hurt.

            Tetsurou loved him more than he wanted to, loved him more than Tsukishima wanted him to, loved him more.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this but special thanks to tobuhayashi for reading and pointing out the mistakes for this one. She writes amazing TsukkiYama, so if you wanna read on that go check her out here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobuhayashi/pseuds/tobuhayashi


	4. Track Three - For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“Goodbye, love. You flew right by, love.” _Tori Kelly, Paper Hearts_**

Bokuto Koutarou’s voice was the loudest Tetsurou had ever heard, and his presence was a constant. He was always there, right there next to Tetsurou, an arm draped around his shoulders, talking to him animatedly, gestures and all, as if he wanted the world to know whatever it was he was keeping in that big head of his, as if Tetsurou was the world.

            Bokuto was always so full of laughs and sunshine and a carefree attitude that was contagious to the people around him, not letting anyone in his sight out of the big hug he set out to give to everyone, and Tetsurou was no exception.

            He was all big words and big hands and a big heart, and Tetsurou found himself drawn to them, drawn to him, even if he didn’t want to fall into it again, even if he didn’t want to hold on to another false hope.

            But Bokuto was always there, somewhere, somehow, sometime. Where Tetsurou was, he was, too. Where Tetsurou had been, he had been, too. Tetsurou wasn’t able to push him away, push him off, even if he wanted to.

            (Actually, he didn’t want to, but he didn’t want to get hurt anymore, either.)

            And somehow, somewhen, Tetsurou’s days had been filled with the picture of him, the warm touch of his furnace-like hands, the sound of his wonderful booming laugh, the sound of Tetsurou’s own beating heart. Bokuto was always there, right there next to him, even if Tetsurou didn’t want him to, even if Tetsurou didn’t want him, and Tetsurou had slowly, slowly, slowly learned to get used to his presence, get used to him.

            Tetsurou had put a lock on his heart, gone and locked and sealed it and threw the key somewhere behind him so no one would be able to find it, so that _he_ wouldn’t be able to find it. But somehow, somewhen, sometime ago, Bokuto had gotten inside, as if he didn’t need a key in the first place, and he had draped an arm around Tetsurou, laughing that wonderful laugh, the sound of his voice like music to his ears, telling him that it was time to go outside, get some fresh air, time to let go. And Tetsurou let his eyes close as Koutarou led him outside of his own cage.

            Because dating Koutarou was the happiest Tetsurou had ever been. Because dating Koutarou came with running down the streets yelling each other’s names and not caring what anyone thought. Because dating Koutarou came with a daily visit to every single ice cream shop on the street at every twelve-thirty. Because dating Koutarou also came with a monthly visit to every music festival that was held two train stops away at every twelve-thirty. Because dating Koutarou meant about forty-two texts at two in the morning asking Tetsurou if he thought owls could sense fear, and Tetsurou telling Koutarou to go back to bed, but giving him a _Maybe_ anyway. Because dating Koutarou came with a hand holding his whenever they were together, with a joke and a pun however sad was the latter, and with a loud, loud voice that Tetsurou wouldn’t mind last forever.

            And Koutarou was perfect, so perfect, that Tetsurou didn’t want to dream without having lay next to him, didn’t want to wake up without seeing him next to him, didn’t want to live without him standing next to him, without that loud voice ‘whispering’ in his ear, without that arm draped around his shoulder, without his presence.

            But Tetsurou knew it. He knew that nothing lasted forever. He knew that everything would eventually break and fall into pieces so small that Tetsurou wouldn’t be able to piece it back together.

            He knew it would happen, but he still held on to the hope that it wouldn’t.

            (Human error.)

            Koutarou had been perfect, so perfect, but it had been the first time Tetsurou had ever seen the light in his eyes dim down to a quarter, the smile on his lips dip down in the corners, the laugh in his voice falter.

            Tetsurou couldn’t understand it. It had been perfect, he had been perfect, _they_ had been perfect.

            It could’ve been perfect, if they could just try, if they would just try, if Koutarou was just willing to try, since Tetsurou was willing to try.

            But Koutarou wasn’t willing to try, not at all, not again.

            It would never work, he said.

  It never worked, he said.

            He knew it would never work, he said.

            Koutarou looked at Tetsurou as if he knew, as if he knew what it was like to be so far away from someone that the love they once had couldn’t reach them anymore, even if they tried, even if they wanted to, no matter how many calls they sent.

            Koutarou had been the first one to ever return Tetsurou’s heart, to ever smile at him back, to ever laugh at him as if he wanted the world to know how much he loved to laugh, as if Tetsurou was the world. Tetsurou had placed his bets on him, placed his heart in a battlefield, risked his feelings in hopes that it would last forever, last for a lifetime. Tetsurou didn’t want to let him go.

            But Tetsurou didn’t yell at him, or scream at him, or tell him to stay. Tell him to stay and not leave for a better place. Tetsurou no longer had the energy to.

            Bokuto Koutarou had been perfect, so perfect, but nothing was ever that perfect, and Bokuto Koutarou’s love, Bokuto Koutarou’s constant presence was nothing more than just a memory.

            (He knew it would happen. He knew it.)


	5. Track Four - Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“No time for love. No time for hate.” _Sia, Big Girls Cry_**

Daishou Suguru had slender hands, ones that Tetsurou let feel his every aching bone, ones that Tetsurou let lead him away to a place he knew he wasn’t allowed to enter, to a place he was sure he would find his downfall.

            Daishou Suguru was different. Daishou Suguru was different in a way that made Tetsurou not question anything that he did. Daishou Suguru was different in a way that Tetsurou knew that he was incapable of feeling. Daishou Suguru felt different. Daishou Suguru felt him different, felt him differently.

            A talk with Daishou Suguru was a talk with no heart, a talk of body and mind. A game of chess where Tetsurou let the opponent win, where the opponent knew he was bound to. It was slender hands feeling him up, grabbing his hair, and then pulling away without so much as a goodbye.

            It was dead silence with Daishou Suguru. There were no whispers, were no laughter, were no songs sung to him to make him feel better. Because Tetsurou didn’t want to feel better; he wanted to feel good.

            (Daishou Suguru was anything but good, but he was the closest Tetsurou was able to find.)

            Daishou Suguru’s slender hands had wrapped around Tetsurou’s wrists with a vice-like grip. It hurt, but Tetsurou let him. Right then, Tetsurou didn’t want to think about anything. Right then, he wanted Daishou Suguru’s breath fog his mind up and make him dizzy. He wanted to drink him up like poison. Anything. Anything to keep him at bay. Anything to keep his heart from beating again.

            Tetsurou told him everything. Whispered his past relationships into his ear while Daishou Suguru’s slender hands held on to his neck and felt him, felt his everything. Tetsurou told him about the pain, told him about the sadness, about the regret, and Daishou Suguru was silent.

            Tetsurou hadn’t meant to tell him anything, hadn’t meant to tell _him_ anything, had meant to stay silent and let Daishou Suguru’s lips trail across every inch of his body, let Daishou Suguru keep silent as he watched him with cold eyes, with a deadly stare, like a predator, like a snake.

            Daishou Suguru was silent, deadly silent, but he kept feeling Tetsurou up with his slender hands, too slender to be considered healthy, and Tetsurou let them lead the way.

            Daishou Suguru treated him like an experiment. All green vials and sharp needles, and a guess as to what Tetsurou would do next. An experiment to see how long he could last. An experiment that the world lost interest in a long time ago. Daishou Suguru observed him for a long time, chin on his knuckles, eyes on him, not a quirk on his lips, not a word to be said.

            He wondered how long Daishou Suguru would keep on observing him.

            Tetsurou’s heart didn’t beat for slender hands or ice-cold stares or a pair of thin lips that never uttered a word. There was nothing in him that he could call a feeling. There was only need. The need for Daishou Suguru’s touch to keep him in place, to block him, to stop him. Because Tetsurou needed him, not for him, but for himself, and Daishou Suguru was more than willing to give him what he needed.

            So he let Daishou Suguru pull his phone out when they were together. He let Daishou Suguru whisper someone else’s name when he was close. He let Daishou Suguru leave him in the middle of the night to go somewhere without so much a goodbye.

            Because he needed Daishou Suguru to keep him in place, to let him stay in his lane, to keep him sane. He needed that touch, he needed those slender hands, that sinful voice. He needed to keep needing him, needed to be needed, to be wanted.

            But it wasn’t Tetsurou’s decision to decide how long he was allowed to be needed.

            “Let’s break up.”

            “Right now?”

            “Yes. I don’t want Mika to find out about you.”

            “Alright.”

            Daishou Suguru had looked at him, with those cold, cold eyes. He stared at Tetsurou for a long time, like he was studying him, like he was observing like a specimen in a laboratory. Tetsurou didn’t say anything.

            Daishou Suguru held his jaw with his slender hands, arms so thin, and leaned in to lock their lips in place, Tetsurou closing his eyes. Daishou Suguru pulled away.

            “Don’t die.”

            Daishou Suguru left without another word, left quickly. He didn’t stop to get a jacket or a wallet or anything; Daishou Suguru never left anything in Tetsurou’s room. There was hardly a trace of him anywhere. He might as well never had been there in the first place.

            Tetsurou didn’t feel one thing for Daishou Suguru. Not one skip of the heart, not one instance where he wanted to smile for him.

            All he felt was an emptiness. All he felt was tired.

            He wanted to get higher, to touch whatever the sky must have felt like, but his wings didn’t have the energy to fly.

            Even if they did, Tetsurou was sure he was going to stay grounded, anyway.


	6. Track Five - Love the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“If only I had just half of you.” _Dean, D (Half Moon) feat. Gaeko_**

Kenma watched as Kuro plopped himself down on his bed, almost lifeless. He stayed there for a while, quiet, and Kenma had to pause his game to climb over on the bed to run a hand through his best friend’s messy hair.

            “Breakup?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

            “Yeah.” Kuro’s voice was muffled by the bed sheets, and Kenma kept running his hand through Kuro’s hair.

            He’d watched Kuro go through all of his breakups, watched him cry over Sawamura Daichi, cry over Tsukishima Kei, cry over Bokuto Koutarou. But now, Kuro wasn’t even crying at all for Daishou Suguru. He was just silent, and if Kenma was being honest, it scared him a little.

            “Hey, Kenma?” Kuro asked, lifting his head so Kenma could hear him better. “Can I ask you a question?”

            Kenma hummed in response, and Kuro turned to him, red eyes and all.

            “Why is it that love is the one thing I just can’t get a hang off?”

            Kuro was smiling at him, a sort of pained smile that told Kenma he was tired, too tired, and that he wanted everything to just stop already.

            And Kenma just looked at him, kept running his fingers through Kuro’s constant bed hair.

            He wanted to kiss him so bad, wanted to tell him _I’m here for you, can’t you see that? Can’t you see me? Can’t you look at me?_ but he already knew the answer to that, too.

            “I don’t know, Kuro. I don’t know.”

            Kuro closed his eyes, then, and Kenma watched as silent tears streamed down his face. Kuro fell in love too easily, wanted to feel love too quickly, wanted to be loved so desperately, and Kenma wished it was he who was crying instead.

            Kuro didn’t deserve heartbreak. Kuro didn’t deserve to get hurt.

            Kenma leaned in to give Kuro a kiss on his forehead, and Kuro opened his eyes to see Kenma’s wet ones.

            “I’m sorry, Kitten,” he said, reaching up to touch Kenma’s face. “I’m sorry I can’t love you, either.”

            At least, in heartbreak, Kenma could say he understood Kuro more than anyone else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who wanted a happy ending: I am sorry.
> 
> To be fair tho, I didn't put a tag saying Angst with a Happy Ending so y'all were in for a sad roadtrip to Angstville. 
> 
> (If it's any consideration, you can still make a headcanon that makes everything happy, if ya want.)
> 
> But anyway, thank you all for reading Lonely Hearts! Writing this was EXTREMELY hard, like every chapter was honestly so draining. BUT I pulled through so yayyy. 
> 
> The last part of this trilogy is going to be VERY different from the first two, so be prepared. I'll be posting the table of contents for the meantime. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading Lonely Hearts, and I hope you will find your own happy ending! *kisses*


End file.
